


Howl

by Writcraft



Series: Rainy Weekend Prompts [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Closeted Character, Coming Out, Getting Together, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Rough Kissing, Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:00:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22964293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft
Summary: It’s not like they even touched, not really. No more than usual at least.
Relationships: Sirius Black/James Potter
Series: Rainy Weekend Prompts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1649929
Comments: 27
Kudos: 131





	Howl

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magpie_fngrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magpie_fngrl/gifts).



> Written for magpie who responded to my Rainy Weekend Prompts asking for Prongsfoot and the delicious prompt of 'touching.' I hope you like it, lovely!

James isn’t scared of anything. He flies with the recklessness of a wild Abraxan, flirts with the easy confidence of someone who’s used to witches flirting back and doesn’t flinch away from protecting his friends. Even the murmurings about war don’t scare him much. James believes with absolute conviction that good will prevail in the end. The alternative is unthinkable, so he prefers not to dwell on it.

Fear is so unfamiliar to him that James almost doesn’t recognise it at first. He can’t explain why his heart begins to race, the sweaty palms or the rough grunt of air that punches from his lungs. It’s so difficult to articulate the tumult that threatens to overwhelm him, he doesn’t even want to try.

“I think I’m dying,” James croaks. He wriggles beneath Sirius, his fingers flexing as he finds himself effectively pinned to the damp grass. Sirius has a very firm grip. “I can’t breathe.”

“Dying?” Sirius grins down at him. “I don’t think so. Weren’t you going on about being able to take me in a fight two minutes ago?”

“I could still take you in a fight,” James mutters. It's partially true. He could if his skin wasn’t so unexpectedly hot from their proximity, if his wand hadn’t landed just out of reach and if he didn't have an unfortunate _situation_ happening that he hopes to Merlin Sirius hasn't noticed. He swallows. “Get off me, you feral hound.”

“Not until you say I’m right.” Sirius sounds smug. He’s not being a total arse. James and Sirius fight a lot, tumbling around on the ground and arguing over which one of them is strongest. Playfighting, Remus calls it. Peter just calls it stupid. 

“You’re right.” James grits his teeth and shoves at Sirius, but he knows the instant a flicker of confusion crosses Sirius’ face that it’s too late. The fear from before chases through his veins and he closes his eyes against it, his hand curling around a fistful of grass. “Don’t.”

“James.” Sirius sounds uncertain, rolling off James and flopping on the grass next to him. “I didn’t mean…”

“I know, I _know_ for fucks sake shut up about it will you.” James’ breath heaves through his lungs, the warm creep of shame leaving his body trembling. He rolls onto his front, to hide any remaining signs of the erection that pressed into Sirius’ thigh just a few moments earlier. “It wasn’t you. It was me. It’s nothing.”

“Okay.” Sirius doesn’t sound so sure. He reaches out, his hand warm and firm on James’ shoulder. It doesn’t help. It just makes James want to cry. “We’ll forget about it. Yes?”

“Yes.” James breathes out through his teeth, his cheeks so hot he can’t bear to look at Sirius. “We'll forget about it.”

“Fancy a drink?” Sirius tries to change the conversation, but there’s still a wobble of uncertainty in his tone. “We could go to the Leaky, there’ll be plenty of people out. Could be a good night.”

“No thanks.” James shakes his head. He just wants to go back to the Diagon Alley flat he started renting a month after leaving Hogwarts. He thought he had it all sorted out. He was making progress with Lily, had good friends and his own place. His life could have been so easy. So uncomplicated. “I’m going home. I’ll see you soon.”

“If you’re sure.” There’s a rustle and the warmth of Sirius’ body next to James disappears. “I might go out anyway. I think Peter’s around. Fuck knows where Remus is, he hasn’t been out in weeks. Let me know if you change your mind.”

James just nods. He turns onto his back after he hears the familiar crack of Sirius Disapparating and takes a shaky breath. There’s nothing left but the cool night's breeze and a handful of stars partially obscured by the clouds.

James tries to forget how good the firm press of Sirius' body felt, but the warm touch lingers until it's the only thing left to chase away the cold.

*

It’s not like they even touched, not really. No more than usual at least.

James has been pinned down by Sirius before, he’s pinned him down in return, they’ve scuffled and laughed, hugged and even kissed each other on the cheek after too much Ogden’s. Sirius always slings his arm around James in a casual way and pulls him close, all musk and warm leather. They shared the same bed on the nights when James heard Sirius crying after leaving home. They curled up together, two hot bodies under cool sheets as Sirius told James in hushed, broken sentences how loneliness claws and tears at him. 

It’s always been fine. It’s always been _friends_.

At first, James tells himself the moment was an anomaly. He decides it’s just an awkward thing that happened. He’s young, horny and he’s bound to respond to the press and flex of another hot body against his own. James has always been supremely comfortable in his own skin, but he hasn’t exactly had a lot of sex. It’s only natural that things get muddled up when it’s so often at the forefront of his mind.

The lies stick for about thirty-six hours until Sirius arrives at his door, hammering his fist against it. When James finally yanks the door open, all the things he wanted to say get caught in his throat and the niggling doubts he’s been trying so hard to ignore bubble and twist within him.

“I wanted it not to mean anything,” James blurts out. He can be a dick at times, but he’s never been very good at lying. If anything, he’s forthright to his detriment. “I’ve been telling myself—”

James stops. Sirius doesn’t need to know what James has been telling himself. He already understands, better than anyone James knows. They talked about it once, underneath a fiery sunset, a swollen Great Lake lapping at its banks. Sirius was barely audible over the gathering wind and the slap and splash of water. _I wanted it to go away but it got so big I couldn’t contain it. It started like a whisper and ended in a howl_.

“Can I come in?” Sirius gives James a lopsided smile and the memory fades away. James is back in the moment, staring at Sirius and feeling the full force of everything he’s tried to push to one side gathering in his chest. “It’s pissing it down.”

Sirius brushes past James to make his way into the flat and James is reminded how a touch can be too much, and at the same time not nearly enough.

*

It takes a while before they talk about it. The flat gets airless with all the things they try not to say, until eventually it’s like there’s not enough oxygen left to say anything at all. They sit next to one another on the sofa, their legs nudging together.

“It happens,” Sirius says. “Happened to me once, when I had to read my essay on Golpalott's Third Law out loud in class. There was nothing sexy about that. My essay was shit.”

James laughs, despite himself. He nudges his leg against Sirius in a way that feels safe still. It’s just another casual touch, like countless others. 

“Do you know I’ve gone through my whole life without being scared of anything?” James glances at Sirius, who looks confused. “That’s the first time I’ve ever been frightened of something.”

“You were frightened of me?” A cloud crosses Sirius’ features and his cheek works as he presses his lips into a tight line. “Don’t flatter yourself, James. I’ve got plenty of options. I know you’ve got a dick, you stupid twat. I lived with you and we shared a bathroom. You used to toss yourself off in the fucking bed next to mine when I was trying to sleep, and I never once tried it on—”

“I was scared because I wanted you to,” James interrupts. He takes a ragged breath, refusing to look away. If he stops now, he’s not sure he’ll ever have the courage to say it out loud again. “I wanted you to try it on. I didn’t toss off next to you, either. Prick. Must have been wishful thinking.”

“You wanted me to—” Sirius stops and stares at James. His face gets tight and drawn. “Circe, you must be hard up.”

“It’s not because of that—”

“It changes _everything_.” Sirius sounds furious, his words hard and cold. “You’re not just any wizard. I can’t just fuck around with you for a night then forget about it tomorrow.”

James wets his lips, his throat dry. He nods, to show Sirius he understands. He’s not sure he trusts himself to speak.

“I didn’t think I could ever hate you.” Sirius’ voice breaks, the hard edge softening even as his words cut to the core. His eyes are bright and his knuckles white as he curls his hand into a fist on his leg. “Even if everything else turns to shit, I thought I’d always have you.”

“You will, you idiot.” James sighs, his body sagging like a limp balloon. He feels as though someone has squeezed all the air right out of him and there’s nothing left. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t want any of that with me. I’ll cope.”

“But it matters if I do.” Sirius unfurls his hand and puts it on James’ leg. The unexpected touch startles James and he looks up, to find Sirius watching him with a strange, sad smile. “Which I do. Of course I do. You’re part of me.”

James tugs Sirius close in response, fisting his hands in his shirt and pulling him in. The kiss sends a restless fever surging through James. There’s a bite and heat to it; the slide of eager tongues, lips, the accidental clack of teeth. There have been so many times they’ve tumbled, laughed and rolled together on the ground. The past stretches and unwinds, flooding every crevice of James’ mind with their history. As his body responds to the way Sirius grinds against him, James doesn’t flinch away. Instead, he surges into it. He lets the fear of the unknown—the fear of the kind of man he is—push him closer to Sirius. James hopes to Merlin that Sirius knows unequivocally there’s nothing accidental or uncertain about his response this time.

James falls back on the sofa and Sirius settles over him, their lips fusing together once more. _Touch me_. James aches with wanting it, but doesn't know how to ask, his body pressed tight and firm against Sirius as everything crumbles and unravels. 

It’s what it all comes back to in the end, James supposes. The countless ways there are to touch and be touched. The ones you want to ask for, but can't.

The ones you can pretend didn’t happen.

The ones you can never deny.


End file.
